” “Poor old ring!” said Ann Veronica. The lighting-up pierced the obscurity of the box, and Ramage stopped his urgent flow of words abruptly and sat back. . ’ He sat on the low wall of the haha and invited her to do the same. '" "What is that?" she asked. It must be some days before you can arrange for her to make an identification. Who is it?” The man came a little further into the room. Black blood and white bone flew into the corners of the crypt, slathering the dead faces of the corpses left piled in the corner. She was always asking questions about her mother and supplying the answers. He looked at his friend. “A ballot-box, you know,” he said, “is very largely just a box.
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